Through the Years
by terradog13
Summary: Every year, Arthur leaves flowers at the grave of Joan of Arc when it was the anniversary of her death. Francis appears while he talks to her. Arthur remembers his time with her as he tries to help Francis stop feeling the pain and overbearing sadness of her death once and for all. Will Francis reject his help, or finally move on?
1. Chapter 1

_Her eyes. That was the first thing Arthur had noticed about her. Not her unfashionably short hair or her simple white gown, but her vivid eyes. They stared straight back at him, unwavering. He felt almost as if they were boring into his soul. Unable to bear it, he looked around him instead. A group of people surrounded the woman, roaring and moving like one giant, ferocious beast, calling for fresh blood. The woman ignored them, still staring at him from her place tied to the stake. As a grinning man with a flaming torch came closer, she looked ahead suddenly, into the crowd. Arthur could not help but turn his head to see what had caught this amazing woman's attention. In the crowd stood Francis, his eyes filled with shock and sadness as he looked at the woman, looking as if he could barely stand under the heavy weight of his emotions. Then he looked at Arthur. Instantly, he changed. His eyes became blue flames, fueled by anger and betrayal. His back straightened and his eyes narrowed. Like with the woman, Arthur looked away, unable to stand the intensity of Francis's gaze. He didn't look up until he heard the torch fall onto the pile around the giant center pole. He slowly looked up and was once again caught by the woman's eyes. She opened her mouth and said something. As Arthur was the only one close to it, he was the only one who heard. The crowd roared louder as the flames began to rise. She ignored them and looked up, closing her eyes and smiled softly, as if she held a secret as the flames grew taller and surrounded her, hiding Joan of Arc._

Arthur woke with a start from his dream, his eyes wide as in his mind, he was still in the dream, hearing the flames and seeing Francis shake with rage as tears silently fell down his face. He looked around and realized he was in his room, in his bed, away from that horrible time. He then heard a harsh beeping sound. He looked next to him to see his clock blinking 11:00 at him. He wearily pressed the button, silencing. He slowly got out of bed, almost rethinking his plan before quickly brushing the thought away. _I have to go, _he thought. _It's what she deserves. _He went to his closet and put on his suit before grabbing the bouquet of flowers next to his clock and heading out the door. At the curb stood a running cab. He silently stepped into it. The driver simply waited until he was buckled in before driving off towards their destination. A few minutes into their drive, the driver spoke.

"It must be a beautiful if you're bringing her flowers at this time of night. Especially if you're going to a different country to do it." Arthur smiled sadly.

"Yes, I suppose she was beautiful in her own way." The driver was silent after that. He quickly stepped out when they reached the airport and walked swiftly to reach his plane in time. As he sat down in his seat, he relaxed and let his thoughts drift back to back then. He still remembered the first time he had met her.

_He sighed as he relaxed into the water. It was the first bath he had taken in weeks. If he had known it would be this boring and smelly travelling with the army as moral support, he never would have agreed. Suddenly he heard a splash and the edge of a sword was pointed at his throat. Arthur looked up only to be blinded by the person's armor glinting in the sun._

"_Who are you?" The person demanded. Their english was accented._

"_I am..." He almost said who he was until he realized that the soldier might kidnap and ransom him to the british. He looked back up, squinting his eyes to avoid the glare._

"_I am Alan, a lowly servant. You will get nothing from kidnapping or killing me." He heard a light chuckle and the sword moved away from his throat as the person took off their helmet._

"_I will never harm an innocent." The person shook their short hair out and smiled at him, stretching a hand out to help him up._

"_I'm Joan. It's nice to meet you, Alan."_

"Sir?" Arthur started as a stewardess tapped his shoulder.

"Sorry to startle you, but we have landed in France." Arthur nodded and the woman walked away. He got up, taking his flowers and leaving the plane. As he left the airport, he called a cab. As he got in, he told the driver where to go. This time, the driver said nothing. When they reached it, he paid the driver and got out. As the cab drove away he looked up at the hill and the grave on top. Every year, he would come to the grave that Francis had left for her and leave her flowers, telling her about what he had done to try to make Francis just a little bit happier and forget about his pain from long ago. He knew he still felt it because sometimes he would see it in Francis's eyes when he thought no one was looking. He silently climbed the hill and stood in front of the grave. He put down the flowers.

"You should have seen him the other day. He had taken me with him to spread rumors about Germany. Only Germany though, he refused to say anything bad about Italy. He still cares for the child. We wore suits and sunglasses and it was fun. Hell, he was smiling happily the whole time." Arthur stood there quietly.

"He still misses you know," he whispered. "He still gets that look in his eye, as if his loved one has been taken from him. How am I supposed to help him. How do you help heal a wound that isn't physical?I don't know how to-"

"What are you doing?" A voice interrupted him. He looked up to see Francis. The night was so dark that he could not make out the expression on his face.

"I-I..." Francis looked down at his flowers and then back at him.'

"You were the one that has been leaving flowers all these years?" Arthur silently nodded.

"Why?" Arthur was quiet as he thought of a reply.

"We were...friends."

"And you still just watched her burn?" Tears sprang to Arthur's eyes.

"I could do as much as you could. She made me promise to not rescue her before she was..." Francis said nothing, only stood there. Arthur began to walk away.

"Wait." Arthur turned around and looked at him wearily, suddenly tired.

"What?"

"When she was about to burn, I saw her tell you something. What did she say?" Arthur looked away.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He heard it when Francis walked over but did not expect his voice to sound as close as it did when he spoke.

"Tell me what she said." He begged. Arthur stood there silently for a minute before replying,

"She told me to keep my promise." With that, he walked away from the grave and away from Francis. He was not stopped.


	2. Chapter 2

Arthur sighed as he watched the scenery below him move. In the plane, it felt like time was standing still. _Just like it did when I was with her, _he thought.

_He was cooling his toes in a small creek as he laughed at something she said._

"_Joan, where do you learn all these jokes? They almost sound familiar." She looked around before leaning in, as if she had a secret._

"_I got them from the country of France." Arthur's eyes widened. He had known France as a child, but after he had grown he had really only seen him at the start of the war. Joan grinned._

"_I knew you'd be amazed. Have you ever seen the England before?" Arthur hesitated before nodding._

"_What's he like? Is he strong and tall? Or maybe fat?" He puffed out his chest,_

"_He is handsome! He has these amazing eyebrows and he can even cook!" Joan smiled._

"_I heard about his eyebrows. Is it true they're like caterpillars?" He was about to reply when they heard yelling in french and footsteps running towards them. He instantly stood and began to run._

"_Wait, where are you going?" But Arthur ran on until he was surrounded by his own people at their base._

He had known it was dangerous to talk to her, but she was such a good friend that he couldn't help it. Of course, she was also dangerous. He smiled to himself. Even then he had known she would be a great asset to France, for he could sense her strength at times, both physical and spiritual. Like when they had parted for what they thought was the last time.

_He was sitting in the grass beside a small trail when she came. She said nothing as she sat down beside him. After a while, she finally spoke._

"_No matter who wins today, we shall always have our friendship." Arthur nodded and smiled at her. though it did not reach his eyes. She took his hand, looking at him determinedly._

"_No matter what, we will always have our bond." Arthur's smile grew._

"_No matter what."_

* * *

Arthur stared at the ceiling of his living room. It has been a few days since Joan's anniversary, and he was lounging on his couch. For some reason, he had had no energy lately. He tried to think of something to do. After a few moments, he sighed and gave up. He was thinking about putting a kettle on when he heard knocking at the door. He got up and walked over to the door, sighing as it was probably Alfred wanting something. He opened the door and froze in shock when he saw Francis standing there awkwardly.

"H-hello," Francis said, obviously nervous. Somehow, Arthur became even more tired

"What do you want?" Francis looked around rapidly, as if wanting to bolt. He seemed unsure as if to stay or go. He made the choice for him by stepping aside Francis hesitated before stepping in. Arthur closed the door behind him and walked over to the living room to see Francis in a chair opposite the couch. He sat on the couch as he looked over Francis. He looked slightly bedraggled, his eyes holding bags. He looked even more tired than Arthur, yet his eyes still held determination as he looked back at him.

"Can you tell me of her last moments before..." He trailed off, unable to say it. Arthur blinked in surprise, not expecting the request. he mulled it over before finally nodded and began to speak.

"_Leave us." The three guards that had been beating her saluted him before leaving the cell room. Joan smiled, though there was no happiness in it._

"_I see you are not truly a lowly servant. I don't suppose you'll tell me who you really are."_

"_I am Arthur, the country of England." Joan snorted and, raising a hand to cover her face, began to laugh loudly._

"_So all this time, I've been spending time with my biggest enemy. I could have saved the lives of many of my men if I had just killed you when we first met."_

"_That would not have killed me," he said quietly. She laughed harder, her laugh bordering insanity._

"_That's just wonderful. And I suppose you came to save me from your own people." He shook his head._

"_I tried that. You are to be an example to the French. But, if you escaped to some nameless place with a new name and a dress, everyone would forget about you soon." Joan stopped smiling and became serious, standing up._

"_I cannot run from my fate. I have no regrets except one."_

"_What is it?" She looked sad._

"_To make sure France had found happiness that will last him far beyond my life. He will be very lonely when I die." She did not say if, as she knew it was definite that she would die soon if she refused to escape. Arthur hesitantly took her hands. When she did not reject his touch, he looked earnestly into her eyes._

"_I swear to guard his happiness for you and to be his friend, if he lets me." At this, he looked away._

"_Though, after this, he will probably hate me forever." Joan took his chin in her hand and turned his head towards her. She gave him a light kiss on the cheek._

"_Do not worry, Arthur. France is a kind man who cannot hold onto such negative things as hatred for long. And if he tries to blame you, give him a big old smack on the head for me, alright?" He chuckled as she mimed hitting someone on the head. Arthur smiled sadly as he hugged her, resting his head on her shoulder as he cried silently. She simply placed a hand on his head and said nothing. They stayed like that until the guards told him to leave._

When the story was over, Arthur looked to see Francis's head in his hands. Arthur thought of comforting him, but was unsure how the man would react. He got up and left the room, coming back a few minutes later with two cups of tea. When he returned, Francis was sitting straight, his face almost composed except for the unshed tear that laid in his eye. He nodded as he took a cup.

"Thank you for telling me. I know this may sound silly, but I just wanted to know who she had her last moments before...it, and if she were perhaps happy before she died." He looked at him as he sat back down.

"Is that all she said?"

"Yes." _Liar, _he couldn't help but think. Francis smiled sadly at him, adding to his guilt.

"Thank you again Arthur. For everything." With that, he stood up and took his leave. When he heard the door close, Arthur sighed and laid down on the couch, ignoring the tea on the table. He hadn't told Francis everything. _But that's to protect myself, _he thought fiercely as he slowly fell asleep.


End file.
